


To Those Who Wait

by Percygranger



Series: Dom!Peter Series [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:25:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Percygranger/pseuds/Percygranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter sets Neal a challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Those Who Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Overcome](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/7384) by Mathilda May. 



> Prompted [here](http://collarkink.livejournal.com/1682.html?thread=3174546#t3174546) on the White Collar kinkmeme.

Neal was spread-eagled on the bed, leather cuffs attached to chains on ankles and wrists kept him still. Face up, naked, he looked down at Peter as he older man crawled between his legs, up his body, until they were face to face.

 

Peter smiled, eyes hungrily taking in the man beneath him.  “You’ve been so good today,” He cupped the side of Neal’s face, gently stroking.

 

Neal looked up at him, his face warming under Peter’s hand, “Thank you, Peter.”

 

Peter’s hand drifted down, sliding across a tanned shoulder to the taut pecs; slightly strained from the position the bindings created. He ran his thumb lightly over the pebbled nipple, savoring the moaning sigh his motion produced.

 

“I love that you want this so much, boy. That you’ll do everything I ask. Has it been hard today?” Peter couldn’t help teasing his sub a bit. Neal’s main task today had been edging. He’d been required to bring himself to the cusp of orgasm every two hours, then come to Peter, who had pulled on the swollen balls, or pinched and twisted at his exquisitely sensitive nipples, until he was soft again. It had been a pleasure and an agony for both of them.

 

Neal’s mouth twisted at the pun, but didn’t say anything about it. He knew better than to do that here, in their bed. Peter wished El could be here, helping him tease, torment, and push their lover to new heights of submission.

 

“Are you ready for the end?”

 

Neal nodded, “Yes, Peter,” He was eager to come, but afraid to show it, not knowing what Peter had planned, feeling it might be even worse than previous torments. Peter always seemed to get more creatively sadistic when Elizabeth was away, perhaps wanting to have a good story to tell, or unconsciously wanting her to be jealous, so she’d never leave. Or maybe El was a calming influence, and with her gone, Neal was faced with the real Peter: controlled, but demanding and cruel; always ready to push his limits.

 

Peter reached behind him, and brought a pair of nipple clamps to dangle in front of Neal’s face. Neal’s breathing hitched, thinking about how they would feel on his already sore nipples. Peter had used these before.  They were right at the edge of Neal’s tolerance: what he could take before breaking down and begging. After today’s treatment, he wasn’t sure he that limit was still there. He might be begging very soon after they were on.

 

His face sharpening with satisfaction at Neal’s reaction, Peter coiled the chain on Neal’s chest, enjoying the small gasp that escaped Neal as the cold metal touched his sternum. He leaned in close, putting his mouth right next to Neal’s ear, pressing the imperfect spiral of metal between them. “If you can wear these for ten minutes without talking or begging, you get to come. If you can’t: my choice of penalty, and no coming until tomorrow. Are you ready?”

 

Neal nodded, breathing a bit faster, and said, “Yes, Peter.”

 

“Good boy,” Peter’s voice was rich with approval. Neal relaxed slightly at the praise, but tensed again as Peter moved back, mouth going straight for his sensitive peaks. Peter licked and sucked one nipple, ignoring the ragged whimpers that Neal couldn’t control. He covered his teeth with his lips and bit down gently, lips stretching into a smile as Neal out-and-out moaned.

 

Sitting up a bit, he uncoiled the clamps, and brought one to the shiny, crinkled nub, opening the jaws. Neal watched, alerted by the movement, trepidation showing clearly on his face (And oh, how Peter adored the honesty of expression their play created). His exhaled slowly as Peter put a stilling hand on his chest, and then he moaned, a long “Ahhh…” that rose at the end as the clamp closed, crushing the flesh between its small, rippled teeth.

 

“That’s it. There you go… Just for you, I’ll start the clock now,” Peter leaned across the bed and pushed a button on the small stopwatch he’d bought several years ago, starting a ten minute timer he’d programmed into it. It was small and unobtrusive, meant for timing runs and other athletic events. Peter enjoyed the perversity of using it for other, equally demanding endeavors.

 

He repeated the treatment on Neal’s left side, milking every last sound of pleasure and pain out of Neal’s lips before making the torment complete, symmetrical.

 

Peter watched as Neal coped with the pain he’d inflicted, that Neal had let him create. Neal was breathing deeply, trying to ride out the initial hurt as it settled into more bearable levels.  It was damn exciting. Peter had been half-hard nearly all day, as Neal had come to him, willing to suffer for Peter’s pleasure.

 

He was fully hard now, his erection straining his black slacks, his own nipples tight in sympathy. He didn’t dare touch himself yet. It was too soon. He’d come when Neal either succeeded, or suffered the punishment for breaking the rules. He glanced at the stopwatch: three minutes and counting. Neal was breathing shallowly; sweat breaking out all over as he struggled to control himself; the occasional whimper audible on the exhales.

 

Tilting his head, Peter decided that he didn’t have to make this easy on Neal. His job was the opposite, in fact. And what would a challenge be without a curveball or two?

 

He traced a finger down Neal’s cheek. Neal’s eyes fluttered open, having fallen shut dealing with the all the sensations the clamps produced. As he focused on Peter, his eyes widened. His lips worked, but no sounds came out. He wasn’t allowed to talk. Peter’s hand trailed down the middle of his chest, and Neal started shaking his head minutely, his breaths coming more rapidly, anticipating-

 

Peter tugged lightly on the chain. Neal made a sharp, short sound that sounded a lot like an “ow”, but managed to restrain any other words. He stared at Peter balefully. Peter laughed, “You didn’t think I was going to play fair, did you?” He pulled the chain slowly upwards. Savoring the sight, the feeling of power, as Neal pushed up with his arms and torso to follow, trying to avoid any extra tension on the clamps.

 

Neal reached the limits of his mobility, unable to push up any further, and, after a brief, tension-filled pause, Peter let the chain fall without tugging on it. The simple change in angle had to hurt, but Neal’s face looked more relieved than anything as he collapsed back onto the bed.

 

Five minutes on the clock, now. Peter let another pass, allowing Neal to regain some semblance of composure; the dom’s face calm, simply watching. Neal worked his way back to equilibrium, though his eyes were slitted, untrusting.

 

As soon as Peter moved, stretching out over Neal, reaching for his wrists, Neal tensed, hunching in on himself.

 

Peter didn’t try to touch the clamps, though he brushed them with his own chest semi-accidentally, pulling a gasp. He unlocked the cuffs one at a time, pulling Neal’s newly unbound arms down as far as they could with Peter in the way. Then he rolled off to the side, kneeling beside him momentarily, before pushing his own arm underneath Neal’s back, and pulling him up to a sitting position. Neal panted as the chain went with gravity, the angle of the teeth changing again. Peter braced Neal with one hand on his back, grabbing a new set of cuffs and several small black weights that had earring-like hooks attached to them. Objects in hand, he slid behind Neal, pulling his arms behind him, cuffing him. They sat chest to back, Peter’s arm linked loosely around the lean torso.

 

 “Do you know what this is?” He held up one of the weights in front of Neal’s face. It was a disingenuous question, of course he knew; Peter just enjoyed the anticipation it built. Neal groaned, low and deep, head falling forward as he tried, very hard, not to say anything.

 

“Such a smart boy, but you’re sure you don’t want them off now?” Peter voice was low, intimate, persuasive, “It’s just one penalty, just one more night without coming. You wouldn’t have to suffer this pain anymore.”

 

Neal, head still bent, gritted his teeth, tense and undecided for a ten seconds that seemed to stretch far longer. Then, he unclamped his jaw, relaxing, and leaned his head back against Peter’s shoulder, exposing his chest, his angrily darkened nipples.

 

“That’s my boy,” Peter was proud, and very willing to show it, “You’re doing so well. Almost there, just a few minutes longer…” Peter hung the first weight on the chain.

 

Neal tensed up, back arching, unable to restrain a cry, “ _Ah!”_  

 

“There, there, you know you can do it, just one more…” Peter stroked the clamps gently, provoking new moans, before retrieving the second weight. He showed it to Neal for a brief second before moving to hang it next to the first.

 

“No, no, I can’t! Peter, please, no more. I can’t. Please don’t-“ Neal pushed back into Peter’s chest, seeking escape from the new torment, his small movements jostling the already hanging weight, making small whimpers escape from Neal’s mouth along with his pleas.

 

Peter looked at the stopwatch: nine minutes. He was pleased and displeased. Neal had nearly made it; almost endured everything Peter wanted. But now Peter was free to do even more. He sighed, making his disappointment clear, soothing Neal with a hand on his shoulder, putting the other weight down.

 

“Okay, alright, if that’s what you want. Tell me when to take them off.” He made it a clear order, Neal would have to choose when to hurt himself again, this time.

 

Neal stilled, trying to breathe steadily, his breaths hitching, near sobs. The timer went off, prompting a small moan as Neal realized how close he’d been to completing his task. He waited, lips moving several times before he finally said, “Now.”

 

Peter, hands already positioned to grab the clamps, squeezed them open simultaneously, pulling them away from the tortured skin, making it a quick and smooth motion. Neal gasped breathlessly and jerked as the pain hit, blood returning to crushed, sensitive nipples. Peter dropped the clamps and held him, kept him from falling to the side or collapsing forward. There were tears streaming down Neal’s cheeks now. He was unable to restrain his sobs as the pain peaked, then gradually lessened.

 

Peter held him close, rubbing his stomach and chest, avoiding the tender areas. “There, there, it’s all right. You came so close, endured so long. I’m sure it’ll happen next time.”

 

Neal shuddered a bit at that, but eventually got himself under control. Realizing that the scene wasn’t finished yet, he asked, voice small, “What happens now?”

 

Peter smiled, although Neal couldn’t see it. “Now, you ask me to put the clamps back on.”

 

Neal’s mouth fell open and his arms started trembling as the words hit. His breath was fast, near sobs again.

 

While Peter patiently waited, Neal stayed that way for a long time, then he closed his eyes, and said, “Peter, _please_ -“


End file.
